Quite The Idealist
by The Genius Mage
Summary: Friendship fic, pre-DotNW. A surprised Richter finds himself elevated to the position of researcher, and not the sort shoved inside the basement like the rest of his kind. He doesn't expect to meet a friendly human named Aster, amongst other things...


_~*_Quite The Idealist*~

_Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down._

~*X*~

**There** was something stately and dignified about the atmosphere around the research town of Sybak, a somewhat popular place on the coast of the flourishing world of Tethe'alla. Winds tainted with the taste and smell of sea salt blew in from the west, washing between the stone buildings that were various shades of browns. Shops and inns were just opening their doors to greet the morning traffic, which would bring with it the mutter and muted rumble of hundreds of pedestrians as they went about their work.

Most of the population was in their twenties, which had to do with the University that the settlement was built around, as it always attracted bright young scientists. There was a constant lack of children in town compared to other cities, since not many of the scholars settled down to raise a family, not with their research taking up so much of their time. The majority of the rest seemed to skip middle-age and went straight to the verge of elderly.

The University, with its shining gate, expansive cafeteria, book-lined shelves and brand new, sparkling equipment, was not as it appeared. Underneath, it held a dark clandestine.

Half-elves were enslaved just beneath the feet of the humans who ran the University. And it was no secret. Feared for their long lives and powerful magic, they had been imprisoned away underground and forced to work on whatever the humans wanted. Such was the racist ways of the Tethe'allans.

Those who had been born and raised in the abysmal conditions of the basement were content and quiet with their lot in life—for they had never known anything else. Those that had come from Outside were harder to break, but eventually, light faded from each and every one of their eyes.

Except for one.

He had an unusually cynical face for one so young. The stern lines of his jaw and narrowed glint of his green eyes suggested that he was far more intelligent than he appeared, and he certainly didn't look dull as it was. Shaggy red hair fell around his pointed ears, and a pair of glasses—scratched, a little beaten—rested on his nose, only amplifying the paralyzing strength of his stare. The humans that came down to check on the progress of the half-elves often skipped his table altogether, or else glanced briefly and warily over his work before moving hurriedly on.

His name was Richter Abend, and he was eleven years old.

Clad in a tattered white shirt, black pants, and a second-hand off-white lab coat, he was far from appearing as healthy as a boy his age _should_ be. His fingers flew over the flat metal contraption he kept turning around and around, slipping wires into place and sliding miniscule green discs into their proper positions. There wasn't a sound to be heard in the dimly lit chamber besides the scrape of tools and the labored breathing of a sickly half-elf in the corner.

Richter had seen sunlight before. He had seen a lot of things from Outside. Unlike most of the half-elves, he hadn't come into the research facility unwillingly. He didn't have a choice, true, but he hadn't been exactly unhappy to come here. Truth was, when his mother—he never knew his father—died one day from the same illness he suspected was in the room right now, he probably would have died too.

They had been on the run, as always, fleeing through the forest that wasn't far from Sybak. One day, one beautiful autumn evening, the virus had come to claim her. He had no idea what it had been, but rumors were going around of a "Mana Contaminate" or something that made only half-elves fall sick and die.

He suspected that it was, in reality, some kind of terrible airborne disease that the humans had made to punish the unruly half-elves. But he had no proof.

Without his mother, he would have died in the forest since he wasn't that good at fighting just yet. At least, that's what he told himself as he slaved away day after day, not saying a word to anyone.

_Today…_Richter's head lifted and he watched the sickly half-elf cough so violently that red blood stained his glove. _Is the sixteenth day and the second month since I was taken here._

A sympathetic murmur came from the girl near him, but the redhead paid both her and the dying half-elf no mind. He went back to work silently, his mind lost in happier days, brighter memories where the sun still shone and he still climbed apple trees just to see the view.

They would not break him.

~*X*~

"_What's that?"_

"_Hm? Oh. That's a patriarch butterfly, dear."_

"…_It's bigger than the birds."_

"_That's how they are. They're very rare, I'm glad we got to see one."_

Richter was abruptly jerked out of his dream world by a hand on his shoulder. He moved back faster than any human could ever hope to, glaring openly at the human that had dared to touch him.

The man was dressed in the scholarly finery of the upper section of the University, his brown gaze was unexpressive. "Come with me."

The half-elf blinked at him cautiously, and with one quick glance around, he realized he must have fallen asleep at his table again. No one else was about. He cleared his throat, having not ever been in the habit of talking unless necessary, and asked slowly, "Why? What do you want with me?"

"Director Schneider wants to see you. Come with me," he repeated. The scientist turned and stalked off without looking back once to see if he was following.

Richter hesitated, but only momentarily. What else could they take from him? The eleven year old boy followed a few feet behind, wishing that he had some kind of weapon to hold onto, just to ease the tension in his fingers.

They exited the basement, coming out in a long, dark hallway lit by torches instead of by electric means. Guards on either side of the door glowered at Richter as he passed, but he was unfazed.

Climbing the steps, he continued to trail after the silent researcher. A door was thrown open and suddenly they were out in the honey-colored corridors and fine red carpet passages of the University. Richter was forced to stop in the doorway so he could shut his eyes against the unexpected gleam of hot electric light, courtesy of the overhead lamps. He glimpsed the sky for the first time in months, a beautiful, blessed black. Stars sparkled, cold as ice, somewhere far away. The moon was as thin as a cat's whisker.

"Hurry up," barked the scientist, black hair swinging as he rotated his head to address the half-elf.

Richter said nothing. Tearing his eyes away with a genuine effort, he forced himself to pass the enormous skeleton of a prehistoric monster with wings that was on display, scale another stairway, and enter yet another small hall.

He had to resist the urge to make a bolt for freedom.

The researcher shoved in Richter before closing the door behind him, and the boy found himself in an unfamiliar room. The ceilings were high, and the walls were decked with shelves and books. Some were even scattered around on desks and spilling over onto the floor, along with a whole mess of papers.

Walking carefully, as if he expected the floor to swallow him whole, Richter said to the man who had his back to him as he gazed out a window, "You wanted to see me?"

Director Schneider was in charge of the Research Academy. A somewhat tall, surprisingly broad-shouldered man with graying hair, he usually garbed himself in brown. Today was no exception, and he remarked without turning, "What's your name?"

"Richter Abend."

The Director started twisting a gold ring around on his fingers. "Richter Abend," he repeated evenly. "You're an exceptionally bright child, aren't you? Didn't you make this?" Facing the half-elf, he strode up to the eleven year old and placed a silver contraption on his desk.

Richter ran his eyes fleetingly over it. Yes, it was his.

"Can you tell me what it does?" asked Schneider.

What kind of stupid question was that? "It stabilizes an artificial mana signature."

"You made this yourself? Without any help?"

"Yes."

The Director ran a hand over his face, and something about his eyes puzzled him. What was he thinking about? "How old are you, Richter?"

"Eleven." Short answers. Short answers were good. Because then he could keep his explosive temper in check if he concentrated on speaking just one word. Accusations, he had seen, could lead to a bloodbath for the half-elf that had dared to oppose a human.

Not that he was planning on being docile forever…

"You really helped Meltokio's Summon Spirit study with this." Schneider put his hands together, took in a deep breath, and then smiled warily, as if Richter was a rabid dog he was seeking to placate. "Do you like working in the basement with the other half-elves, Richter Abend?"

Truthfully? "Makes no difference to me." He kept his eyes resting straight on the Director's, but for once, a human actually held his gaze.

"You're smart. A genius, even. That much is clear." Schneider cleared his throat and went back to staring at the horizon as the dawn approached, scalding the skyline orange. "I offer you, Richter Abend, a position as a scientist here in Sybak University."

Richter was taken aback, a truly rare thing. He couldn't believe it. Tugging absently at the long collar of his ratty old lab coat, his mind quickly went over the possibilities. "Will I get treated like the others? If not, I might as well stay below and work in peace," he snapped hotly. He wasn't afraid of anyone's anger or scorn, rather, if he wanted to tinker with something it might as well be with people who weren't going to curse and mutter behind his back like filthy cowards.

"Yes, you will be treated equally. I will inform the professors and the other researchers. I see great potential in you, and so long as you follow the rules, I will allow you to work with us." He said this like it was a great honor. A great honor to work with disgusting beasts.

It wasn't that difficult of a decision, either way. Even if the promise for equality was as empty as his stomach. "Very well."

"That's settled, then." Schneider went over to Richter and shook his hand. "I've already got a room picked out for you. You'll find new clothes and a schedule, and your partner for your courses will be assigned in the morning."

Frowning, Richter took a step back, though he gave a curt nod. It bothered him. The Director already had a room reserved? Had he _expected_ him to agree? Was he just a mutt performing tricks unknowingly for his abusive master?

"There's still a few hours before class starts," said Schneider, either oblivious to Richter's thoughts or ignoring them as he fished a key out of his pocket and passed it to him. "Why don't you get some rest?"

Taking the key, Richter studied the golden item and the white numbers emblazoned vividly along the side. _RM 613_. He closed his fist around it and turned soundlessly to go.

"Richter?" Schneider called before he left.

He paused.

"I had to pull a lot of strings for this."

He would have to be a fool and deaf to miss the warning in those words, and though he was neither, the half-elf couldn't bring himself to really care. Besides death, there was nothing these people could do to him. Absolutely nothing.

He wouldn't let them steal his pride, and stealing his life would at least set him free from this madness.

~*X*~

The sun was out and spreading tangerine rays across the rooftops of Sybak. Richter noticed that he had a room that looked long deserted, clean but dusty, although it didn't bother him. His living quarters were far plusher than in the basement, and he found a sort of wonderful relief in the _privacy_.

Doubtless there were security cameras. He'd feed the devices some false, looping video later.

Richter tried on his new lab coat, finding it to be the same variety that the humans wore, except smaller. It was strange, to be wearing such clean clothes devoid of holes, wrinkles, stains of blood and tears…

A twinge of guilt and pity tugged at his heart for the other half-elves in the basement, but he knew he would be in a better position to help them if he just kept going. Stuck down there, he'd be helpless as well.

_I will not become this place's dog,_ Richter swore, tugging viciously at his tangled red hair. His mother's hair.

Schneider had even been kind enough to provide some new glasses for him, and Richter slid them on, blinking at the clarity that came with the action. The digitally altered lenses adjusted themselves to fill in the blurry spots that his vision could not.

New shoes, clothes, even gloves. Everything was in order. Time to head to the research laboratory and get his assigned lab partner. He very nearly felt sorry for whatever poor soul got stuck with him.

Striding out the door, Richter glanced around and once more had to resist the temptation to run away as fast as he could through the invitingly unlocked front door. He shook his head, deciding that in reality he'd not get very far, and he went down two hallways before arriving at his destination.

When he opened the door—which slid back on silent hinges—the whole room fell quiet. Richter ignored their baleful stares, heading to the back of the room and taking a seat where an older lady gestured for him to sit.

"Your partner will be here shortly," she told him before walking off to the front. Gradually, the rest of the people present went back to their projects that sat bubbling, hissing, or steaming on desks before them.

Richter noticed, from the corners of his eyes, that there were armed men in each curve of the room. They were staring at him, the bright colors of Meltokio a stark contrast to the suppressed browns and whites of Sybak. He smirked at the floor.

An eleven year old, causing trouble? Really? Even _he _wouldn't delude himself with visions of grandeur and say he could take on four armored men without a single weapon.

"A half-elf!" hissed a scientist close by. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"Didn't you hear? Director Schneider signed him up because he's some sort of genius."

"Do we _really_ want one of those half breeds in here? Learning more?"

"I don't like the look of him. His eyes are snakelike."

Striving to tune out their scathing whispers, he examined the bottles and canisters set before him with an interested gaze. So many bizarre items! Some of them he had only read about. Some he didn't even know, to his chagrin, though he intended to find out.

He had the suspicion that he could only go places under constant guard, at least for now, until the people became used to his presence. That, and until the humans trusted him enough not to flee.

If that ever happened.

The door opened again, and Richter turned to see a little boy standing there, looking a bit shy, fingers busy pulling back the sleeves of his too long lab coat. He_ had_ to be younger than him, Richter was definitely taller. He estimated that this kid was about eight or nine. His blonde hair fell in untidy ruffles down over his green eyes, and one silly strand stuck straight up at an almost jaunty angle.

However, there was a _brilliance_ to his eyes that promised he wasn't as young as he seemed.

Like Richter.

The middle-aged woman—Professor Ida, she was called—showed the boy to his seat beside Richter. The room was deathly silent as everyone listened in. "Richter," she said in a calm, polite, fashion. The same tone she used on everyone. "This is Aster. He'll be your partner for as long as you stay here at Sybak, unless I say otherwise. Understand?"

He nodded once, the movement sudden and fast, like a bird's.

"Aster, this is Richter Abend."

Aster smiled brightly. It was so abrupt that Richter's eyes nearly shot open, but he controlled his emotions, giving himself a cool, collected appearance.

"Hi! I'm Aster!" He extended his hand and Richter shook it slowly. "But you already know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

Aster was about to say something else, but just then a young man in his twenties came up to him and said in a superior sort of fashion, "He's a half-elf, I'd watch my back if I were you."

"He's a half-elf?" Aster studied Richter curiously, and he wondered what the little brat was looking for. He did _not_ like to be stared at like some animal, thanks.

"Yeah, so—" The man began.

"That's all right with me." Aster grinned, interrupting the incoming rant. He turned to Richter. "I'm only nine years old. What about you?"

"Eleven."

"I was sent here because I have nowhere else to go. Apparently I'm pretty smart. I don't know how they can tell, but I guess that's good, right?"

Richter just arched an eyebrow.

The young man huffed and almost growled, "Nine years old? You must be that kid prodigy they found."

"Guess so." Aster pointed. "Your partner is looking kind of harried. You should help her out."

"Oh, jeesh, I'm sorry Rilena!" The man dashed off, strawberry-blonde curls bouncing around his ears, desperate to help his companion before she caused their project to burst into flames—if the smoke was anything to go by.

The wide white room was soon filled with the clinking of beakers, amongst other things, as the researchers put the newcomers out of their minds and went about their usual tasks, though a few heated debates broke out here and there. Richter caught his name more than once.

"You shouldn't have done that," commented the half-elf wryly, scratching out a design on his notepad. Complicated chemical equations twined themselves around the uneven sigil.

"Done what?"

"Said it's okay with you, that I'm a half-elf. They'll outcast you." He looked to the side slightly. "There's no reason for that." His voice softened at the end.

Aster grabbed his shoulder and made a thumbs up. "I'm not concerned. If they can't accept people for the way they are, then that's their problem, not mine."

Richter couldn't keep the astonishment off of his face, and out of his voice. "You're quite the idealist, aren't you? It isn't that simple."

He shrugged his small shoulders in response. "It could be, if we tried. Everyone living equal…that's my dream!"

He wanted to scoff at the kid's childish fantasy, but his heart of hearts wished for it too, no matter how much he tried to bury the notion under cynicism.

"Courage is the magic that turns dreams into reality. I have the courage to be friends with you, no matter what _they_ say." Aster's emerald eyes blazed, a firestorm burning in his irises. "So, Richter Abend, what do _you_ say?"

Studying his young, serious face, Richter curled his lips upward in what could be either a soft smirk or a sharp grin. "I say…we'll see."

He refused to believe that this boy, this Aster, could be his friend. _Friend _was a distant, unfamiliar word that felt heavy and wrong on his tongue. No, he'd not get his hopes up. When the humans started scorning him, then he'd see how long Aster could hold onto his precious courage.

Regardless, they were partners. It'd be easier for the both of them if it all went smooth and easy.

Richter pushed his notes over to Aster. "According to the Professor, we're to research the composition of mana and how it affects the world. That's my theory on the speed that mana particles regenerate. Got a better one?"

Aster's brow furrowed as he ravaged the piece of paper with his eyes, and for a moment the half-elf thought he didn't understand. And then: "I think this exponent should be a three."

"No it shouldn't," grunted Richter crossly. "A four works fine."

"But that would be implying that the energy would come back before—"

"I'm a half-elf. I have magic. You don't think I know how mana works?"

Rising at the challenge, Aster grinned. "Let's run an experiment on it, then!"

Richter sighed and consented, intending to at least stop his persistent lab partner from decimating the fragile equipment as the blonde sprang to his feet, oversized lab coat flying.

It was going to be a long day.

~*X*~

He was right. It _had_ been a long day.

But…dare he say it…interesting? Entertaining? Maybe even fun?

…Okay scrap that last one. But interesting at least, that was for sure.

Aster had limitless energy and a mind that seemed to be five steps ahead of his mouth and feet. He was constantly talking, constantly moving, pouring things in and writing things down, tossing pens at Richter so the half-elf could scribble some hurried notes before he went to go get the goggles. They had worked straight through lunch, even as the others left, intent on making up for their late start compared to the rest.

Needless to say, when they finally left the room, both of them were ravenous. Richter more so, since as a half-elf, he had been given only the most meager of meals previously. Aster seemed to become even _more_ hyper as Richter followed him down to the cafeteria.

"I would eat out," Richter stated dryly. "But I'm on constant surveillance."

It was true. Even now, an armed guard walked not far behind the half-elf.

"It'll go away when they see you mean no harm," assured Aster in a soothing tone. "Let's get something to eat and then…" He slumped suddenly, shoulders sagging. "I dunno. I'm kinda lost here."

"You're not the only one," scoffed Richter.

As they continued down the carpeted corridors, Aster perked up again. "Will you come to my room? I'm in Room 565."

"…Why would I do that?"

"We're friends! That's what friends do."

Right before they entered the cafeteria, Richter's temper inexplicably flared again. "We just met! We're not friends yet."

His reply was barely audible, and so full of hope that Richter cringed inwardly. "Yet?"

_Damn it,_ the eleven year old thought, not caring that he had just cursed in his head. How in the name of the Chosen did this silly, talkative blonde kid screw with his heart so easily? He prided himself on building walls and shutting people out, as he had done for his own protection after his mother had died. How had Aster gotten in so…_effortlessly_?

Conversation momentarily died as Richter strode in, but as was his wont, he paid them no mind. The half-elf wasn't even sure what to order, since he had never had the option to actually _pick_ a meal before. The concept was strange and staggering. When Aster chose two random items off the menu, Richter muttered the same.

They made their way to the back near a window that let in dusty copper sunlight. Richter sat in one concentrated ray of it, basking in the warmth that he had so missed.

He thought of his mother, sick and dying, and then he thought of that ill half-elf in the basement.

Shoving the image away, Richter concentrated on chewing his Peach Gel.

Aster's eyes were on him again, so stupidly wise and yet so _naïve_. "You look sort of pale."

He took his time when it came to answering, sipping his water slowly. This wasn't just tap water; this was purified clean _mineral_ water. Like the kind in the rivers that wound off of the mountains. Melted snow. "What makes you so sure?"

"You just are. I mean, you're _really_ pale. And scrawny. Like they haven't been feeding you enough."

Richter kept back a bark of harsh laughter. "Believe me, I've eaten better. As for my skin…can't be helped right now."

"Yes it can. How about we do an experiment on monsters at some point? That way we can go outside."

"We'll need some fighting lessons. Those things aren't pushovers." Richter hadn't realized how hungry he was until he started really _tasting_ his food. Aster wordlessly pushed his plate towards him and waved away the half-elf's complaints.

"I'll go get another. Just eat, Richter." Aster stood up and walked off.

Richter studied his retreating figure, so small and frail looking amongst the crowd of stately researchers. A strange thought entered his head.

If he was indeed some kind of mutt, he'd be the kind that thought for himself.

Gritting his teeth, annoyed, he resumed his chewing match with a particularly tough bite of Gel.

Richter Abend was no _dog._

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Originally the first chapter in a multi-chap fic. I long ago lost my drive to finish it, so here's the finished part at least. Works decently as a stand-alone...I think? Might add more later. Regardless, reviews are always appreciated!<em>


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